


Eighteen Hours

by morninwarri0r



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Love, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 06:43:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11374740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morninwarri0r/pseuds/morninwarri0r
Summary: [Two-shot] You had eighteen hours to go, on a flight next to the man who had stolen your precious window seat.





	1. Part 1

_Eighteen hours to go._

The rumble of the plane engine was drowning out the soft music playing in your ears, and you increased the volume while resting your head back on the seat. You shrugged on the jacket you had brought with you, hugging it around your cold frame. As you moved, you snuck a glance to the window on your left as inconspicuously as you could.

It was a gloriously beautiful afternoon, and the army of majestic clouds outside suspended in the pale blue sky was a marvelous sight to behold.

A sight that would have no doubt been even more breathtaking, if it weren’t for the man seated to you, his head limiting your view of the sky.

You resisted the urge to lean over and snap a picture. Or two. Or maybe a bunch of them. It felt entirely too awkward to tap him on the shoulder and disturb him from what seemed to you like an intense sky-watching session. His head was turned towards the window, his person still as he watched the clouds go by.

You huffed quietly to yourself, turning your head back to the blank TV screen in front of you. Sitting by the window was a must-have for you on any flight. You usually managed to get them, but this time you had to book a last-minute flight, and this was the last available window seat. You would have managed to book it, if you had been a few seconds quicker than the man next to you right now.

Again, you resisted the urge to glance over. You liked looking out on flights. It was cathartic, therapeutic. It gave you a reason to mull over random thoughts while looking out at the sea of clouds beneath you.

Well, for now it seemed that your music would have to be a replacement for the clouds as your flight companion. Eighteen hours would go by in no time, for sure.

…You really hoped it would.

 

* * *

 

_Sixteen hours to go._

It was pretty dark in the plane now. Everyone had pulled down their window shades to keep the glare of the sun out as they enjoyed the movies that they were watching on the in-flight entertainment system, snuggled in blankets and snacking on some nuts that had been given out earlier.

Everyone but the man next to you, that was.

Your seats were the only ones that had bright, strong daylight streaming in through the window and shining on your laps. It had been two hours, and you had managed to distract yourself with a movie that you weren’t really paying attention to (oh, the credits were rolling already). He, on the other hand, had continued to stare out the window, unmoving other than to cross his leg over the other occasionally when he got uncomfortable.

From the corner of your eye, you stole yet another peek at him. The sun was setting now, and the sky outside was a brilliant swirl of gold and orange, the clouds painted a matching color. The light pouring in created a beautiful crown of gold encircling his fiery red hair. From the reflection on his blank TV screen, you could catch glimpses of the peaceful expression on his face. He was attractive, beautifully serene, his peculiar mint green eyes blank as they watched the clouds outside go by. Somewhere along the way he had put on his headphones. You didn’t know if it was to listen to music, or if it was to block out the noise from that one snoring passenger just a few rows away.

Either way, for some reason it made you feel oddly happy to know that the both of you enjoyed doing the same thing on planes. It was rare to find someone else who loved the window seat as much as you did, who appreciated the sight of the sky on the plane. Your family often chided for not taking advantage of the in-flight entertainment system, even though watching the scenery outside was plenty enjoyable for you. You usually did it while listening to some quiet instrumentals. While it was a shame that you couldn’t watch the sky from the window this time — and on such a long flight to boot — you supposed it wasn’t so bad, now that you found someone who was strange like you.

 

* * *

 

_Fourteen hours to go._

Dinner had just been served. You had only eaten a light lunch, so you were famished by the time the attendants started serving dinner. But now, you were staring at your food, forcing your head to stay on the tray in front of you instead of looking over. He had ordered the same thing as you, grilled salmon with pasta and a cup of apple juice. When he had spoken to the attendant, his face had turned away from the window for the first time in the span of the journey. While he hadn’t actually looked at you, you had finally caught a glimpse of his face up-close, instead of looking at a reflection.

He was handsome. Very much so. And as he leaned over slightly to speak to the attendant, you could catch the faint scent of peppermint on his clothes.

You had been rather taken aback by the silky smooth voice that had left his parted lips. His voice glided across each syllable that he spoke in the most effortlessly charming way, and your heart continued beating just a little faster even after he stopped talking. You hadn’t thought he would sound like that: gentle, soft, tender.

Eventually you found the sense to begin eating. You didn’t want to look like a fool, simply staring at your food and not doing anything. Although, that was kind of what he was doing too. He was probably not hungry as of yet. His food was untouched, and he resumed his position on the seat, staring out the window with his arms folded across his chest.

Deciding to just start eating first — it wasn’t like you were going to wait for him anyway — you opened up the plastic that contained your cutlery. The sealed wrapper was pretty stubborn though, and you had quite some trouble trying to wrestle it open.

And when you did, your fork went flying out of the wrapper, landing on the floor by his shoe.

You let out a quiet gasp at the same time that he looked away from the window, having noticed that something had happened. He took a glance by his shoe, and then his mint eyes met your apologetic, nervous ones.

You were about to apologize and retrieve it, when he made the first move. He reached down, picked your fork up, but instead of returning it to you, he placed it on his own tray. You were confused for a moment, wondering why he wanted to steal your fork, when he began opening the wrapper for his own cutlery with relative ease.

Wordlessly, he took the fork from his set of cutlery and handed it to you.

Your heart did a little dance in your chest at his sweetness. His eyes didn’t convey much emotion as he stared at you, but the niceness of his gesture convinced you that he was just shy. Probably as shy as you were.

“No, it’s fine. I dropped it, I’ll wash it in the lavatory or something,” you said, smiling and reaching over to take your fork back. “But, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He didn’t object to you retrieving your fork, and you hastily excused yourself to head to the lavatory to rinse it off. You were rather thankful to be out of his line of sight, so he wouldn’t notice the blush that was forming on your warming cheeks. You snuck a peek over your shoulder, only to catch him dropping his head from your direction and righting himself on his seat to take a sip of his juice.

Great. Now you were slightly dreading and anticipating your dinner next to him.

 

* * *

 

_Ten hours to go._

You were having trouble sleeping, as you always did on planes. The only thing was that you always had the window seat, so you could lean against the side for some neck support.

Right now, you were a dozing disaster. You first attempted to rest your elbow on the armrest and prop your cheek against your hand, but then as you dozed off your elbow had slipped off and you nearly had a heart attack as you slipped off the side of your seat. Next you had tried folding your arms across your chest and sleeping in an upright position, but as your head got heavier and heavier your neck felt increasingly sore, and you knew it would be a bad idea to sleep in this position on the plane for the next few hours.

On your third attempt, you tried to hug one leg to your chest and rest your temple on your knee, but that had also failed because not long after you fell asleep, your foot had slipped off the edge of the seat no thanks to your socks, and you had almost slammed your head straight into the seat in front of you. Thankfully, you had reacted fast enough to not jolt the person in front of you out of his sleep.

Grumbling inwardly to yourself, you turned your head to the left, only to find that the man next to you was peacefully asleep, resting his head against his pillow on the side. You could see his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly as he breathed. He looked positively adorable.

And you probably looked rather suspicious, staring at a man who was fast asleep.

With a drawn out sigh, you tried to get back to sleep again. This was going to be a terrible night.

 

* * *

 

_Four hours to go._

You stirred, frowning at the bright sunbeams shining on your closed lids. Groggily, you peeked an eye open, wondering how you had managed to sleep so well till morning.

You felt something soft under your head shift, which confused you for a moment, because you certainly weren’t moving your own hand. Then you glanced down to see that your pillow was resting on your lap.

…But that didn’t make sense. If your pillow was there, then…

You lifted your head off whatever it was that you were resting on, and to your horror, you realized that you had actually slept while leaning against his arm.

Immediately your eyelids flew open and you jolted back into an upright position on your own seat, mortified at what you had done. You looked over, and found that he was already awake, and was trying to move his stiff arm. You felt your cheeks flame and a pang of guilt hit you. Hanging your head, you rambled apologies to him over and over, which he brushed off, insisting that it hadn’t really bothered him all that much.

You could tell his stiff arm was protesting otherwise though.

Honestly, how much could you embarrass yourself on one flight?

Now fully awake, you rushed out of your seat to the lavatory to freshen up, and to compose yourself after your morning shock.

…But on a side note, his arm had been really warm and nice to sleep on.

 

* * *

 

_Three hours to go._

For the past hour you had sat with your body turned away from him, still too embarrassed to look him in the eye. You turned your volume as loud as you could without destroying your eardrums, and fixed your eyes on a random movie you had selected to make it look like you were doing something other than dwelling over the incident earlier.

He seemed to be perfectly unperturbed by it, however. He was calm, composed, still as he looked out the window at the mess of clouds and fog outside. You wished you could shake off your self-consciousness and maintain your cool like him.

You had finally managed to distract yourself with the movie, which had turned out more interesting than the summary on the brochure had described it to be, when you felt a small tap on your shoulder.

Startled, you snapped towards your left and found that he was now standing, sending you an apologetic look as he tried to move across you. He probably needed to use the washroom. Quickly, you moved your legs to the side on to the aisle, giving him space to squeeze past you and to the aisle.

Feeling his legs brush against you made you feel more nervous than you needed to be. You returned your attention to the screen, hoping it would help to distract you again. Thankfully, it was already the climax of the action scene, and it wasn’t until he came back and needed to return to his seat that you felt unsettled again.

You shifted your legs again, making sure to keep your eyes averted from his. He mumbled a soft “Thank you” under his breath as he squeezed past you again towards his seat.

Only, he didn’t quite manage to get there smoothly.

All of a sudden, there was some turbulence that caused him to stumble.

And as fortune — or misfortune — would have it, he fell straight towards you.

He let out a grunt as he just barely managed to stop his face from crashing into yours by gripping the arm rest in one hand and pressing his hand against your thigh with the other.

Now, with your faces just barely inches from each other, there was no stopping your heart from going into a mad frenzy. Your breath caught, your face flaming in an instant when you realized just how close the both of you were. You could feel his warm breath fanning against your already hot cheeks, detect the scent of peppermint on him, and see his entire face clearly.

The mint green color of his eyes was captivating, and they had widened in surprise as his gaze locked with yours. You could see a faint red blossoming on his fair cheeks, a blush that was slowly matching the color of his messy bangs that covered his forehead. This was the first time his face betrayed any sort of emotion, and you found yourself drawn to him. He always had an air of nonchalance about him, but right now, he looked completely and utterly rattled.

You wished you could examine him a little more, but the moment he regained his senses, he scrambled off of you, plopping quite unceremoniously back onto his own seat.

“S-Sorry…” he muttered, his head still hanging low.

“That’s alright…” you replied in a whisper, smoothing out your clothes and putting your headphones back over your ears. You looked to the screen and found that the movie was already ending. You had missed the rest of that climatic scene.

You couldn’t be bothered to rewind though, because what had happened earlier with him was already playing out incessantly in your mind, and you had a feeling your recorder of a memory wouldn’t stop anytime soon.

 

* * *

 

_We have arrived._

You pinched your nose and tried to relieve your ears of the pressure block that had come up while the plane was landing. Once your hearing was cleared again, you began packing your things, retrieving your phone, earpiece and untouched snacks from the compartment in front of you and packing them into the small bag you had. Everyone was already getting out of their seats get their luggage from the stowaway compartments.

You waited till most of the people were done taking their luggage from the compartment where your hand-carry was at, before standing up to retrieve it.

To your dismay, you found that your bag had been pushed all the way to the back of the compartment. You tried standing on your tiptoes but your fingers could barely brush the handle. You were about to attempt jumping, when you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned around to see him standing beside you, and you stepped aside, watching him reach his arm into the compartment and taking your luggage for you. He first handed it to you, still keeping his eyes averted from you as he did so, before retrieving his own bag.

It was quite a while before the people in the aisle began to shuffle forward and out of the plane. In the meantime, you were standing so close to him that your arm was pressed up against his.

While waiting it occurred to you that you had yet to find out his name. You bit on your gum as you contemplated asking him. What was the use in asking him anyway? There was a very low chance you would get to see him again after this.

Before you could think further, the crowd began shuffling forward, and you began walking, with him trailing behind you.

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t too hard to find out what his name was, quite unexpectedly.

You had ended up walking out to the arrival hall around the same time he did, and the moment you did, you had heard a resounding shout that silenced everyone in the vicinity for a good few seconds.

“SAERAN!!!”

You, along with the group of people around you paused from whatever it was you were doing to look in the direction of the voice.

It was only him who didn’t respond to it. If anything, he began walking just a little faster away from the voice. Except, the man who had shouted wouldn’t let up, and continued screaming, “WELCOME BACK, SAERAN! HYUNG MISSED YOU SO MUCH— NO NO NO STOP RUNNING AWAY COME BAAAAACK!!!”

You hurried out after him, just in time to catch him dragging his luggage with him and running away from another redhead chasing after him.

Before you realized it, you were giggling and then fighting to suppress your growing laughter.

Saeran. It was a nice name.

You looked on at the pair of siblings who had gone quite the distance now, his brother having caught up to him.

You were about to turn and leave, when you met Saeran’s eyes.

Yes, despite the distance, you knew that his eyes were on you.

With a coy smile, you waved goodbye at him, and he followed suit, his visible annoyance at his brother fading and being replaced with bashfulness. He seemed as if he wanted to say something, but then his brother noticed you and said something to him, that made him flare up in the most amusing way.

You chuckled to yourself, but you had to break your eyes away from them as you moved to get out of the way of the impending crowd that was squeezing through the automated double doors.

Before long, the crowd had filled up the place and then you had lost sight of him.

It wasn’t the most ideal way in which you could bid your farewells to him, and you had to swallow your disappointment. How strange. You had only known him for eighteen hours, but you already felt quite attached to him.

Oh well. You supposed, if fate allowed, the both of you would meet again.

So with one last fleeting glance at where he had been, you turned around and began walking with the crowd, trying to find your way to the nearest exit to flag a cab back home.


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had eighteen hours more, on a flight next to the girl whom he had given his window seat to.

_Eighteen hours more._

Without shifting his head, Saeran glanced wistfully at the dark window from the corner of his eye. In the distance below the plane, the city was twinkling with dazzling golden lights, like little stars on the ground as they flew up into the dark veil of night amidst the low rumble of the plane’s engine. He wished he could get a clearer look of the diminishing city beneath him, to see as it grew smaller and smaller till it vanished into thin air, past the heavy fog and dark clouds.

The only thing was, her head was in the way.

With a soundless exhale, he turned his attention back to the blank screen in front of him, and pulled the headphones that rested around his neck up to cover his ears. He closed his sore eyes, relaxing into the soft, quiet instrumental that was playing. He never really liked midnight flights, but he hadn’t had any other choice, since she had chosen to be on this one.

He resisted the urge to peek an eye open to glance over at her, forcing himself to keep his head in place and to keep his eyes screwed shut. But that only reminded him again — this was probably the sixth time — of the face that she had made when she laid her eyes on him.

She had been tired, evident from the dark circles beneath her soft eyes, her eyebrows pressed down slightly in a tiny frown as she tried to wrestle her heavy bag through the tiny aisle without hitting other passengers, her lips pursed in a thin line as she tried to keep from yawning.

She was plain. Ordinary. There wasn’t anything special about her bare face, nor her soft mutterings of “Excuse me” and “Sorry” as she squeezed past several other passengers. She was just a normal girl. Like any other he could find on the street or in the park.

And yet, she wasn’t.

She made him feel nervous in a way he had never felt before, and he didn’t know why. His heart had beat a little faster when she had arrived, bag in tow. And it had gone even faster when their eyes met, and her eyes flickered in recognition.

She remembered him. Clearly, from the way she stared at him for a solid three seconds before shaking her head in disbelief and an embarrassed, shy smile graced her lips. “What a coincidence,” she had said, by way of greeting, before he got up to help her get her luggage in the overhead compartment while she slid into her window seat.

Or more accurately, the window seat _he_ had given her.

It was strange how compromising he was being. He absolutely hated flights when he didn’t get the window seat. There was just nothing to do. Watching movies gave him a headache, made him feel queasy on flights. Not to mention, he could easily download those movies and watch it on his own computer at home in far better quality.

The window seat was the best place to be. He could sit there and watch the clouds go by for hours, look down below and try to spot mountains and hills if it was a clear day, admire the rich, golden sunset closer than he could ever be on the ground on a normal day.

And yet, he had just given up the window seat for a girl he barely knew. For a girl who loved window seats just as much as he did.

For a girl… who was kind of weird. Like he was.

“Yeah, what a coincidence,” his rather cryptic reply had been. That had earned him a rather odd, questioning look from her, before she lowered her gaze and turned back to the window, to look out at the dark night.

Sure, you could call this a coincidence. Just one that was a little more… _deliberate._

He heard her shift in her seat, and then there was a quiet little breath of air.

It was hard to fight down the upward twitching of the corners of his lips as he resolutely kept his eyes shut.

 

* * *

 

_Seventeen hours more._

Without the window seat it was slightly harder to fall asleep, since he was in a less comfortable position. Fortunately, he had brought a neck pillow with him just for this flight, and it had helped him fall asleep after a while.

Sadly though, he was a light sleeper, and so at the sound of hushed murmurings, he began to stir awake. At first, he thought he was in a dream, and that he had actually dreamt of her speaking to him, her voice soft and gentle in his ears. Like a lullaby.

But then he blinked a little more and realized that she was speaking across him to an air stewardess. Something about blankets and not having any more of them. With bleary eyes, he looked over to see that she had her arms crossed over her chest, keeping her hands close to herself to keep her extremities warm. She was wearing a long sleeved shirt, but from the looks of it, it wasn’t doing enough to keep her warm on the plane.

The air stewardess sent her another apologetic glance before leaving, and she sighed quite miserably as she turned away, perhaps ready to go back to sleep again and deal with the cold somehow. She met his curious gaze then, and she drew in a small breath, before asking, “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you?”

He shook his head, clearing his throat as he looked down at the blanket that he had covering him. Shrugging it off him, he handed it over to her.

“Here.”

She seemed quite puzzled, as she stared dumbly at the blanket he had held out to her, as if the brown, woollen thing would leap out of his hands and pounce on her at any given moment.

Eventually, she did speak. But it was to reject it, as she always did, being the shy person she was.

“I have my hoodie,” he insisted by way of explanation, gesturing to the black hoodie he had on. He felt chilly without the blanket — it was particularly cold in the plane — but he wasn’t about to admit to that. Besides, she needed it more than he did, and he could manage a cold night on the plane without a blanket.

He must have been convincing enough, for she relented, thanking him and accepting the blanket from him. And as she did so, their fingers brushed against each other, the feathery light contact sending a jolt up his arm.

He also noticed that her fingers and her hand were smaller than his.

Cute.

She, however, had a different response.

“Your fingers are ice cold,” she commented in surprise. “Are you sure you don’t need the blanket?”

“I don’t.” He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, fisting them to keep his extremities warm. He could already feel the cold beginning to seep through the fabric of his denim jeans, and he resisted the urge to pull the hood over his head and zip up his jacket entirely to keep his neck and ears a little warmer. He didn’t need to make her feel worse than she already did.

However, she didn’t look convinced this time, much to his chagrin. Although, it wasn’t like he would budge on this. He refused to have her shivering through the night and potentially falling sick.

And a small part of him wondered why on earth he felt about this so strongly. It wasn’t as if he knew her well. They were acquaintances, at best. Not even friends. They were just people who had met on a plane and spent eighteen hours together the first time, and they were about to spend the next eighteen— no, _seventeen_ hours together again.

It didn’t matter. He shrugged off the uncertainties, refusing to think about the why. He was just going to do whatever he wanted. That was that. End of story.

It appeared that she had also come to the same conclusion as him, for the next thing he knew, she was covering him with half of the blanket and her with the other half.

When he sent her a questioning look, she looked away, her cheeks darkening almost unnoticeably beneath the dim lights of the plane, and murmured, “We can share.”

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

What was that sound?

_Oh._

It was coming from him.

He must not have known how to react for a while, so she took his silence as consent, making sure that the blanket covered him sufficiently before changing her sitting position and attempting to fall asleep.

Then he recalled how poorly she had slept the last time they were on the plane together. He remembered her nearly tumbling off her seat entirely whenever she finally managed to doze off, effectively waking him as well because of the slight tremor and noise she would make as she did so, because she just couldn’t keep her balance in the strange sleeping positions she attempted to execute.

But now with them sharing the blanket, she couldn’t afford to lean over to the side of the plane and rest her head there in her most ideal sleeping position. So now she was attempting to balance her head on her fist as her elbow rested on the arm rest between them. No doubt, that would end poorly the moment her consciousness slipped away.

He was going to regret doing this. Maybe he wouldn’t. But it would be the best way. And an embarrassing one, at that. 

Still, he would rather do it than watch her suffer for the next few hours and suffer together with her when she inevitably woke him up too.

Wordlessly, he pressed his hand at her elbow in a silent request for her to move it aside. She sat up, watching him as he pressed the smooth metal button at the side of the arm rest between them and pulled it up. She still looked rather confused, her brow pressed down and her tired eyes staring at him, waiting for an answer.

Cute.

Then he moved in closer, pointing at his arm. “You can use my arm as a pillow, like last time.”

The mention of that previous incident made her eyes widen in the most amusing way, and she stumbled over her words as she attempted to form a coherent response. It was a mix of apologizing for what she did the other time, when she used his arm as a pillow without intending to, wanting to move the arm rest back down because she was clearly embarrassed — he was too, just that he was better at hiding it than she was — and uncertainty at whether she really should take him up on that offer.

The dull burning in the back of his sore eyes reminded him that he was tired and in desperate need of sleep. He really didn’t have time for this. He could be embarrassed in the morning when he was lucid. Right now, all he wanted to do was go back to sleep.

So with a sigh, he reached over and pressed her head against his shoulder as gently as he could, and was glad to find that the blanket could now fully cover the both of them now, with the distance closed between them.

Not that he would really need the blanket now that he felt like his face was on fire. His palms were sweating and he discreetly wiped them on his jeans, all while willing his pulse to stop being so damn loud and obvious. As if it wanted to announce to her that he was nervous and shy and…

And what?

“Thank you,” she murmured in small, quiet voice. One that put a stop to all his thoughts, that cleared his mind and caused his lips to curve up into a tiny smile that she would not be able to see. It felt nice, having someone rest their head in the crook of your neck. He had seen MC do that to Saeyoung all the time, especially on their movie nights when they hogged the couch outside. He never understood how watching a movie like that for two hours could be comfortable.

It certainly wasn’t the most comfortable thing, having a weight on your shoulder that prevented him from moving as freely as he could in his sleep, and it was sure to guarantee him a sore arm in the morning.

But… it felt nice. Having someone’s head fit in the crook of his neck, feeling her warm, soft hair on his cool skin, inhaling the faint scent of shampoo lingering in the tendrils of silky hair that fell in between them.

He looked down without shifting his head, noting how pretty her eyelashes were, how regular her breathing was as she no doubt, began to drift into a land of dreams and fantasy.

He followed suit, shutting his eyes and relaxing his head against his seat.

This… was nice.

 

* * *

 

_Eight hours more._

His arm was aching. It was sore, prickling like needles had been stuck all over his arm. He needed to move it, but he couldn’t. There was a weight keeping him from relieving himself of the pain, and that was what caused him to stir first.

When he opened his eyes it was already morning, daylight streaming in through the windows that had been opened, and he could smell the eggs and ham that other passengers were already having for breakfast. A couple of them were squeezing past each other as they went to and fro from the lavatory to freshen up. Down in front, air stewardesses were going down the aisle, serving breakfast to the passengers. They would take a while more to get here.

Saeran lifted his head from hers (when had his head dropped there?) and when he shifted slightly in his seat, he winced at the soreness that hit him anew in his arm. But then when he glanced down and saw her still leaning against his arm, peacefully asleep, the pain magically diminished till he could barely feel it. Her breathing was regular, calm as she slept, her eyelids fluttering ever so slightly as she did so. Under the blanket, he found that the sides of their hands were touching, two of her fingers curled over his pinky finger.

The contact made his lips curl and his chest swell with something pleasantly warm. It felt warm and nice, with her next to him like this.

…Actually, a little _too_ warm. Heat was starting to spread to his cheeks as he remembered what he had done yesterday, removing the arm rest between them and pushing her head to rest on his shoulder.

He groaned internally. Could he _be_ any more embarrassing on a flight?

Right then he wished he had the window seat. So he could look out and distract himself with the clouds or something. But then the window shade had been drawn down, and he didn’t think it would be a good idea to pull it up while she was still sleeping, lest the piercing rays of sun shocked her awake.

So all he could do was wait. Wait for the sleeping girl to awake from her slumber.

He couldn’t even pull his headphones up to listen to some music while waiting. Great.

So with his free hand, he began to mindlessly drum his fingers on his seat next to his thigh, while trying not to think about how her fingers had curled just a little tighter around his finger in her sleep.

 

* * *

 

_Seven and a half hours more._

“What do you think your girlfriend would like to have?”

Saeran stopped short, nearly dropping his cup of water as he did a double-take. “My what?”

“Your girlfriend,” the air stewardess said with a broad grin, gesturing to the both of them covered by a single blanket, and her sleeping on his shoulder. “What a cute couple” was written all over her gushing face. He recognized the air stewardess as the one who had come by last night to inform her that there were no blankets left.

Of course. He should have known. The position that they were both in would only mislead others who didn’t know them. It was only to be expected. “She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied in a matter-of-fact tone, trying to hide the fact that he was becoming oddly unsettled over such a trivial misunderstanding. The smile on the air stewardess’ face faltered and it became quite awkward as she apologized for misunderstanding, and then asked if it would be better for her to come back at a later time to serve them both breakfast when she woke up.

Yes, that would certainly be better.

Saeran heaved a small sigh to himself. _Pull yourself together, for goodness’ sake._

Stealing another glance at her, he noticed that the blanket had slipped off her shoulder. A frown made its way onto his face, concerned that she might feel cold again.

So as carefully and quietly as he could, he reached over with his good arm and pulled the blanket up to hang it on her shoulder again.

And then the worst, single most terrible thing that could happen, did:

She _moved._

Alarm bells went off in his head as he held his breath, froze in his movements, in fear of her waking up. He was now acutely aware of how dangerously close his face was to hers, almost like that time when he nearly fell on her because of air turbulence.

_Please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up, please don’t wake up._

It was a new mantra in his mind as he kept his eyes glued on her lids, willing her eyes to stop moving underneath, and for her brows to cease frowning. He watched as her pouted lips pressed and released, pressed and released. They were a pale, pink colour, her lips cracking in the middle because they were so dry.

She was… pretty. 

And at that moment, she made a little grunt in the back of her throat as she shifted in her seat, lifting her head off his arm, much to his physical relief — not that it did much to ease his state of panic and imminent mental meltdown. Before she could wake up fully, he jerked back to his own seat and tried to pretend everything was normal.

Just keep it cool.

Yeah, right. As if he could do that, with her looking over at him, rubbing her bleary eyes and asking him if his arm was alright.

He forced a smile — albeit a miserably tight one — on his face and waved his arm a little to show that he was fine. Except that he wasn’t, and he was trying deathly hard to keep from groaning at how sore his entire arm was.

He could only massage it a little and roll it back and forth when she hastily excused herself to the lavatory to freshen up.

But well, he supposed, despite the pain, he didn’t regret lending her his shoulder for the night at all.

 

* * *

 

 _Four hours more._  

It was deep blue. And white. A sea of white. Clouds lined the bottom of the sky like little ripples on a cotton ocean. He could it see it all clearly, since she had offered to exchange seats with him for a while, perhaps in return for the favour that he had done her last night. And so here he was, sitting by the window seat that he had originally given to her, looking out and admiring the sky he loved so very much.

And he could feel her looking at him, her gaze boring holes in the back of his head. He could tell vaguely from the window too, in the moments that he took trained his attention on its reflection instead of the clouds. She probably wanted to look outside too, but when he offered to go back to his own seat, she had refused, insisting that she was fine with taking his seat for a little while.

So he had taken her up on that offer, except now, he couldn’t really concentrate on the surroundings outside. Increasingly, he found himself staring at the reflection on the window instead, to look at her, to observe her, enthralled by how pretty her hair looked when the clouds were printed over them. White as snow. Pure white.

Then there were times when she looked up and it seemed like her eyes met his through the reflection. He would immediately avert his gaze, even though it was obvious she wasn’t actually looking at him.

How strange. She had the most peculiar effect on him, and he wondered why. He gazed out, focusing on a particularly fluffy chunk of white cloud nearby. Maybe it would have an answer for him. But all it did was remind him of cotton candy, which only made him crave something sweet as he always did.

Before he could grab some of the candy he had stashed in his bag beneath the seat in front of him, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

Turning around, he saw her, holding out a packet of sweets to him. She was already sucking on one, he could tell from the odd bump in her cheek. Her eyebrow was arched, as she offered one to him. He took it with a small “Thank you” and popped it into his mouth.

Cherry flavour. His favourite.

She sent him a smile, before turning back to the movie she was watching, with slightly pinker cheeks than before.

Pink. The colour of sweet, sweet cherries.

 

* * *

 

_We landed._

He didn’t want to say goodbye.

He didn’t want to have to wait again, for weeks just to be able to catch her on a flight again. Nor would he be able to create another coincidence on another eighteen-hour flight. Coincidences only worked twice. After that, it was up to something else entirely. Most people would think of fate and destiny. He didn’t believe in either, since both had failed him before. He had learned that the hard way.

He could only take things into his own hands.

That is, he would if he had a little more courage.

But he didn’t. So now he was preparing himself. They might not see each other again, and that made him feel a little disappointed, and something weighed his chest down. He hadn’t really thought past this stage. When he first booked the flight and took the seat next to hers, he had merely been acting spontaneously, not really thinking.

It didn’t matter. He would deal with this somehow. After all, they had not known each other for long. Sure, she was strange and weird and cute and warm and different, but she was also someone he would have to say goodbye to eventually anyway. Best to get it on with while he was not that attached to her yet.

“Saeran,” she called, and he spun around then, facing her, dreading this already. He hated doing this sort of thing. But then, looking into her eyes now, he thought he saw the same turmoil swimming in them, the same conflict that was tearing something within her to shreds. Perhaps it was just his imagination.

Both of them had already collected their luggage. All they had to do now was walk out of the arrival hall and go their separate ways.

“Yes?” He struggled to think of something. Anything. Maybe grab a cup of coffee before leaving the airport? But that would do nothing more than stall for time. The final result would be the same.

“Will we see each other again?”

He too, wished for an answer to that question. He didn’t know. How would he know? He didn’t have the answers to the universe, he didn’t know why the sky was blue, why the sun rose from the east, nor did he know why they had met in the first place, or why he was feeling what he did at the moment: a torrent of emotions was sucking the air from his lungs and making it hard for him to think and speak.

“Maybe,” he answered. No commitment. A question to another question.

She hummed a little in response, looking down and shifting her feet on the ground. He expected her to give up and just bid him farewell already.

“M-Maybe we could keep in touch,” she suggested, looking up, a coy smile spreading her lips. He watched as she took out her phone, and held it out to him.

It took him a moment to realize that she wanted him to dial his number in.

Normally, he would never give out such information about himself to a stranger. Security issues and whatnot. But she was more than just a stranger. Certainly, she wasn’t a friend, but she was different. Special. Unique. In a way he couldn’t describe or put in words.

So he decided for an enigma like her, he could act a little uncharacteristically too.

Taking her phone, he dialled in his number and pressed the ‘call’ button. A second later he felt a vibration in his pants, and he took it out, looking at the unknown caller ID flashing on the screen and then the numbers printed below.

He ended the call and then handed the phone back to her. She was now beaming, excited as she accepted her phone back from him and flashed him the biggest smile he had seen yet.

Cute. Too cute.

“Thanks,” she said, and he did the same, before he could no longer hold her gaze without his brain turning into a pile of useless mush. Swiftly he turned his head away and gestured for her to follow him as they both walked out of the arrival gate, now a little closer to each other than before.


	3. Distraction (Epilogue)

Your nose was practically pressed up against the cool glass of the window pane as you watched the sky grow bigger and bigger while the earth below became smaller and smaller, till it eventually vanished completely behind the boundary line of white clouds above.

One little thing marred the pure splendor of blue and white outside, however.

Just above the centre, there was a blurred image of a mop of red hair suspended in the middle of the clouds outside. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched your lips apart, as you turned to your right, eyeing the man whose red hair was always distracting you from your cloud-viewing mid-flight.

He raised an eyebrow, looking up from the book he was reading when he noticed you turn his way.

“Done already? Can we switch seats now?”

You sent him a teasing glance, shaking your head. “Saeran, it’s only been fifteen minutes.”

He narrowed his eyes, flatly staring at you in return. He didn’t seem to believe you, which was why he glanced at his watch to check the time. True to your word, it had only been fifteen minutes since the plane started moving, and that only made him release a frustrated sigh. He was impatient. Terribly so.

You thought it was cute whenever he had his lips pressed down like this, the lines on his forehead creasing ever so slightly when his eyebrows drew down in a frown. His fingers were drumming on the front of the book cover, and he kept changing his seating position every few minutes. He was restless, and you knew he was more than eager to change seats with you, even though he had been the one to voluntarily give you the window seat ticket on this flight.

“So, why did you stop looking out? It’s not like you to get distracted,” he commented, trying to make some small talk to make the time go by quicker.

True. It really wasn’t like you to stop looking out the window to look at something else.

“Your hair is distracting,” you answered plainly. It was true. His red hair was so infuriatingly distracting. You could see its reflection in the window, to the tiniest baby strands at the top of his head that swayed with the cool air in the cabin. Like a moving ball of fire in the sky. A meteorite, maybe.

He paused a bit, as if thinking of a suitable comeback in response, but he either couldn’t manage it, or simply thought it too tiresome to try. So he quietly pulled up the hoodie of his jacket to cover his red hair, all while still narrowing his eyes at you.

You chuckled at the gesture, reaching over to insert your hand under the hood of his jacket, threading your fingers through his soft, red hair. It felt nice, like you were petting the head of a little puppy.

“Didn’t you say it was a distraction?” he asked, taking hold of your wrist gently to pry your hand away from his head, before he removed his hood and shook his head in an apparently efficient method to undo the mess you had made of his hair.

“Yes, but I never said I didn’t like it,” you replied, watching with delight as his lips parted and his eyes widened, his gaze now incredulous before he looked away, his ears reddening. That seemed about enough to get him to zip his mouth and to stop pestering you to switch seats with him.

You laughed a little to yourself. It was fun to tease Saeran like this. He was always calm, cool, collected, and in moments like these, you felt proud to be one of the few people to see this side to him: shy, speechless, mildly irritated.

Deciding you were better off using your limited time in the window seat wisely, you turned back to the sky outside, trying to empty your thoughts as you looked at the sea of clouds below, like small, quiet waves along the shore of a beach. You could imagine them rising, receding, without the sound of water crashing on land.

And there it was again. The red hair. The moving target. You could see his face too, the tip of his nose scrunched up slightly, absorbed in his book, his golden eyes hungrily devouring the words on its pages.

You groaned inwardly. It was as Saeran pointed out. It wasn’t like you to get so distracted on a flight. You loved the window seat. It was a must-have on any flight. The clouds outside were your companion, and you could never tear your eyes away from the window.

Except now, things had changed.

Now you had another companion, instead of the clouds, on your flights. Now you had a _distraction_ , one who stole your breath and attention far more effortlessly than the clouds could. Now, you could never decide what you wanted to watch: the clouds, or the subtle changes in his face that he only allowed to show for the merest of seconds.

After a while, the clouds got boring. They were always the same. Just white, against an endless blue. But he, on the other hand, was that red spot, that enigma, in your line of sight, and made it so that you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his reflection on the window. He was always changing, unpredictable; there were so many more things you had yet to discover about him. The clouds had bared themselves to you over the years, but not him. You wanted to unravel all the layers that covered him. It was exciting, an adventure all on its own.

And now, you couldn’t tell if you wanted the window seat purely to look at the clouds, or so you could secretly observe him through the reflection on the glass.

You were jolted out of your thoughts when you suddenly felt his breath on your ears.

“Wow,” he breathed, and you could smell the scent of peppermint on him. His scent. He was leaning over, his cheek nearly touching yours as he looked out, wide-eyed at the beautiful view outside the window.

“Yeah,” you agreed, though you weren’t really focusing on the sky anymore. You were acutely aware how close he was to you, how his hand was pressed against your thigh, the ring on his finger nudging your right pinky finger.

You felt a sudden rush of emotions, your chest swelling with adoration for him. He was beautiful, far more beautiful than the clouds outside, far more beautiful than what he thought of himself. You adored the excited gleam that lit up his golden eyes; you often saw something similar flicker in his eyes each time he laid his eyes on you. At the start you thought it was just your imagination, but now, now that you were on your way to your honeymoon destination, you knew that those little moments had all been real.

You loved him so much your heart could burst right this instant.

At that moment his eyes darted down to meet yours, the smile on his face faltering when he realized that you had been staring at him all this while. You watched in amusement as a light pink color dusted his cheeks, sputtering, “W-What? Is there something on my face?”

“No,” you whispered, your eyes never leaving his. Then, moving purely on instinct, you tilted your head upwards, pressing your lips softly against his cheek. A smile lifted your lips as you pulled away and noticed his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed thickly, his eyes darkening as he trained his gaze on you.

Or more accurately, your lips.

“We can switch seats now, if you want,” you spoke, nudging him back so you could stand and give him the prized seat by the window.

 

* * *

 

He folded his arms across his chest, emitting a small sigh as he watched the clouds go by. Just a few seconds ago he had been amazed by this view, the sight of enormously fluffy clouds crowding in the sky, as if fighting for his attention.

But now, something else had his attention. Or more specifically, someone. He could see her head clearly, reflected right smack in the center of the window pane. She had his attention _all_ to herself. And she knew it. He could tell, from the way she was smiling to herself while pretending to flip through the in-flight-entertainment magazine in her hands.

He resisted the urge to bring his hand up to his cheek, at the spot where the feel of her soft lips lingered. He wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of seeing it. She liked to ruffle his feathers, to make him stumble over his words, to make him look like a fool.

Well, in some ways he supposed he _was_ a fool. And he always would be, when it came to her.

Absently, he traced the cool metal of the ring that adorned his fourth finger with his thumb, and looked once more out the window, at the clouds that once fascinated him to no end, and then to the reflection of the girl who had stolen his attention from them.

She was a distraction. And she seemed rather proud of the fact, too. Every now and then he would catch her sneaking sideways glances at him through the window, a cheeky smile lifting her lips as she tried to catch any more slip-ups from him.

She was beautiful, wise, a maddening tease. The strangest girl he had met yet, but also the one he had come to love more than life itself.

He felt a tap on his hand then, and he turned to look at her now. Her hair, her curious eyes, her cute nose, her lifted cheeks, her soft, pink, luscious lips. Immediately, his mind went back to when she just kissed him on the cheek, and he felt heat begin to crawl up his neck to his ears once more.

“So?” she asked, and he had to ask her to repeat herself. She just couldn’t choose between two movies to watch, so he just told her to watch both. Not helpful, apparently, even though this was an eighteen-hour flight, where she would have plenty of time to watch both.

As she settled back in her seat, selecting the movie with her remote, he couldn’t help but continue to stare at her. Not from the window’s reflection, but her, right there, right next to him. Sometimes he just couldn’t believe that she would be willing to stay by his side, that she could love someone as weird and strange and flawed like him, but then each time he saw her with him, each time their eyes met and she flashed him the warmest, brightest smile that could rival the sun itself, he would be convinced once more, grounded in the truth of her existence and their relationship.

And just then, he felt a sudden urge to kiss her, to feel her lips on his, to take her by surprise just as she had done with him earlier. It would only be fair, after all.

Saeran wasn’t one to act on impulse, but for that moment, he decided he would.

So without any warning, he placed his hand behind the nape of her neck, pulling her in towards him. He heard her gasp at his sudden movement, and his lips curled up into a brief smile before he captured her lips in his, silencing any protests she might have had on the tip of her tongue.

Sweet. He tasted cherries, no doubt because of the candy that she liked to bring on board with her. She was soft, her lips melting against his as she responded in kind, although he could tell she was holding back because they were on the plane and they were in plain sight.

He brushed his tongue lightly against her lips, and smiled to himself when he felt vibration of her quiet moan against his lips. They parted obediently for him, her tongue darting out to meet his.

Instead of going further however, he pulled back, satisfied immensely with the dazed look in her eyes as she stared at him questioningly, her now pinker lips glazed with moisture. Revenge success.

“Saeran..?”

He only gave her a smirk in reply, before swiftly turning away so he could hide the blush blooming in his cheeks, the lingering taste of cherries in his mouth.

At least, now he wouldn’t be the only one distracted on the flight.

…But on hindsight, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to do this so early. After all, they had eighteen hours more on the flight, which meant eighteen hours of having to restrain himself and maintain his cool composure in front of her.

So he looked out at the window, trying to empty his mind by staring at the clouds that were passing by.

And there her reflection was again, her eyes now trained on the screen, while her thumb traced the outline of her lips. Her soft, sweet, pink lips.

With a defeated sigh, he screwed his eyes shut, allowing himself to sink into the darkness instead.

…This flight was certain to be eighteen hours more of agony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> I got the idea for this on the plane to Bangkok and I realise that the introvert in me connects with Saeran on a spiritual level haha.


End file.
